POV: Turning a Con
by Gatekat
Summary: POV Bayverse. A very confused young Decepticon femme crash-lands on Earth near NEST headquarters.
1. Confused femme is confused

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author**: gatekat and fallentaiyoko on LJ  
**Pairing**: None  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Codes**: None  
**Summary**: A very confused young Decepticon femme crash-lands on Earth near NEST headquarters.  
**Notes**: RP written in the Point of View fanverse explained http:/community .livejournal .com/ tf_matrix/738 .html and pretty much in story as well.  
Jazz is alive (you should be used to this by now) and bonded to Prowl.

* * *

**Turning a Con 01: Confused femme is confused.**

* * *

_Primus hates me_, thought the young Decepticon from the bottom of the crater made from her landing...if you could even call it a landing. The jolt of the crash-landing had woken her out of power-save, and though she thought she might be detecting other Cybertronians, her Friend-or-Foe systems were so badly damaged that she was neither transmitting that information, or able to receive it, so she wouldn't know what faction a mech belonged to until he was in visual range.

Though on a social level she was kind of excited at the thought of being able to actually talk to someone of her kind, any flicker of hope was quickly extinguished - most other 'Cons would rather beat the slag out of her than anything else, and the Autobots...they'd eat her spark for breakfast!

_Gonna stay right here in my hole, maybe I won't die that way._

It was well past dark when she heard someone approach, the foodsteps very quiet.

"Are ya coming out, or am I comin' in?" A strong male voice called out to her in the Decepticon dialect.

She peered up over the edge of the crater, golden optics glowing against the dark of the night. She knew better than to assume that just because the steps were quiet that it must be a very small mech or drone ... after all, she'd gotten her name for all the times she'd inadvertently managed to sneak up on the adults when she was having a bad recharge.

"Depends," she replied, trying to sound more bold than she felt. "If you're just gonna beat me or something, not gonna go out of my way to make it easier for you."

A bright blue optic band greeted her look around when she didn't see anyone where the voice had come from.

_Oh frag_

"Ah don't plan on beat'n ya, but ya _are_ coming out and with us," the silver mech not much taller than her informed her, still keeping to the Decepticon dialect even though she could see the Autobot insignia on his helm.

She was so slagged.

"Primus _really_ hates me," she murmured, looking around to try to see just how many constituted 'us' - maybe she'd be able to run successfully? Or at least she would be far enough away when they killed her that her spark could escape to the Matrix instead of getting devoured.

She did recognize the silver Autobot, though the information was in some of the damaged sectors of her memory chips, and all she could remember was that he was some sort of high rank. There was no information on the heavily built dark green scout-class that was standing further away with a heavy blaster aimed at her. They made two points of a triangular trap. A third must be somewhere, even if she couldn't see him.

Deciding to take her chances at escape, she slipped down back into the bottom of the crater, shifting position quietly before scrambling out the side without an apparent guard, only objective being 'away from the Autobots'.

The silver one leapt, tackling her into a roll than ended with her on her front and him straddling her hips as he grabbed for her hands. The extra weight was enough to cause one of her multitude of patches to fail, this one being her left knee, a sickening crunch as shoddy welds pulled apart and inferior replacement parts collapsed under the strain.

She hit the ground with a warble of pain, but otherwise holding still. She'd always learned that struggling made the beatings worse, and maybe this way the Autobot would at least be merciful enough to make her end quick, utterly convinced that one way or another, she was going to die.

He got her wrists and pulled them behind her, locking them in place before he rolled gracefully to his feet and reached down to pull her to her feet.

"Ya got'a designation?" he asked with a strangely jovial tone.

There was a horrible screech of metal rubbing against metal in ways it was never meant to as she was pulled to a standing position again, muting her vocalizer against the cry of agony she wanted to release.

Balancing, more or less, on her one good leg, she quietly replied, "Darkstalker, sir." As far as she understood, _everyone_ rated at least a 'sir' from her.

A disgruntled sound came from the silver mech and he glanced towards the green one. "Hound, come balance'r."

"Right-to," the working-class accent responded as his weapon was quickly stowed.

She listened to the larger mech approach, then a set of rough, strong hands were on her shoulders as he stood behind her. It took all the need to balance and most of the weight off her. When her gaze followed the silver mech as he knelt, she saw a repair kit come out of subspace and set on the ground next to her injured knee.

"Mah designation's Jazz," the silver one supplied as his claws worked to assist inspecting the damage he's caused.

The entire knee assembly was fragged, cheap parts and shoddy workmanship that would have eventually given out anyway. Utterly confused by the actions of those who were supposed to be her enemies, she couldn't help but ask, "Why are you...?"

Her optics dimmed as a "Low Energon Pressure" message flashed in her HUD. She only had enough to function to begin with, so the leak opened by the damage of the rest of her knee was causing her to lose what little of the precious fluid she had.

"We're Autobots," the mech behind her, Hound, said as Jazz began to work on making her leg functional enough to walk on. He shifted a bit, wrapping an arm around her chassis so he could continue to support her while he reached into his subspace and brought out an energon cube. "Drink okay?" he placed it to her mouth.

Hound's answer clarified exactly nothing, but she sipped on the offered cube, the energon sweeter than any ration she'd ever had before. Had she been lied to about who the Autobots were her whole life?

"Always been told Autobots would eat my spark...or is it that mine wouldn't taste good enough to be worth it?" Whatever Jazz was doing, it made her knee not hurt as badly. Maybe instead they were going to make her be their slave or something? Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as being dead?

"Slaggin propaganda," Jazz growled from the vicinity of her knee. "We're Cybertronians, same as ya, not monsters. What have ya been up to, that ah haven't even heard ya designation?"

"Of course not. Who'd hear of a nobody, a failure so bad that she can't even manage to die properly? Would have thought that asleep so long, I'd have fallen into a star or black hole by now..." With everything she'd ever known practically turned upside down, her processor ached, threatening to lock up under the stress.

The silver mech looked up at her, an odd expression on his face that she couldn't place other than it wasn't very pleased.

"It's mah job ta know everybot," Jazz informed her. "Try ya leg now."

Carefully, she gradually placed weight on her leg, testing to see if it at least worked. It still hurt, but she was no stranger to pain, and at least it seemed like she should be able to walk on it.

"I think I'll be able to walk on it," she told him, hesitating before adding, "Thank you."

"Good," Jazz nodded and stood as he subspaced his kit and motioned for her to follow as Hound let her go and back off a bit to play guard again. "Diego Garcia isn't far. Ya managed ta crash just outside our perimeter. Hav'a heard of Ratchet, Autobot CMO?"

"The name sounds familiar, but the references all point at a damaged sector...can't get anything more to pull up." She followed him, still favoring her right leg and feeling awkward with her arms restrained behind her. "Might be good to visit a real medic for a change, though..."

Jazz chuckled, a mixture of playful mirth and dark amusement in the sound. "If ya'r as fragged up as ah think, yar not gonna get out of his domain for'a while. Obey'm and he'll treacha well and fix'a up good as new. Be difficult an' he'll intraduce ya to 'is wrench collection."

Darkstalker gave a little giggle at the phrase 'introduced to his wrench collection'. "Is ... that good energon like, a regular thing around here?" she asked, half expecting to have to repay Hound somehow for the cube earlier.

If Jazz caught the implications of her question, he might have to add "replace fuel filters" to the extensive list of things he was pretty sure was fragged up with her.

"Yes and no," Jazz gave her another looking over as the human-built facility came into clear view, dimly lit for the night-cycle. "That was a field ration, not the good stuff we usual have."

Wait...they didn't consider that the good stuff? It was like a hundred times better than anything she ever remembered having. All the processing power going to the ongoing 'What the slag?' that this night was becoming was even causing her to not notice the pain in her knee as much.

She kept her optics open and her body language submissive as she was walked right through the heart of the facility, past guards who looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and wariness and several strange bipeds that were small even by her standards. The biggest of the organics didn't even reach the top of her knee.

"So this is your new pet?" a deeply annoyed mech voice came from inside one of the buildings when they approached close enough to trigger the automatic door.

She felt a powerful medical scan run over her before she saw the chartreuse mech in the well lit medical bay. His hands were on his hips and he was glaring at Jazz rather than her.

"Still working that part out, Ratch," Jazz shrugged and guided her to stand in front of the medic by her elbow. "Hound will stand guard until Jolt comes on shift."

"So just how 'fixed' do you need her?" the big mech glared at an utterly unphased Jazz.

"Fixed enough she's not likely to short out on me talking," Jazz shrugged.

"Fine. Scat you," the medic pointed out the door. "I'll comm you when you can talk," he grumbled, taking custody of her by the arm and walking her into the back, to a room with no windows, only one door and a setup that spoke clearly of being designed to give no opportunities to escape.

She wanted to take offense at being called a 'pet', but given how things had been so far, there were much worse fates than being a pet to this weird Autobot.

The medic's gruff tone reminded her too much of past encounters with other 'Cons, and it tempted her to turn to Jazz and beg him to shoot her, exposing her spark so there was no possibility of the shot missing. But considering everything the silver mech had done for her so far, she would just have to hope that he'd been truthful about compliance making things go easier with the medic.

As far as the scan went, the shorter list was probably the things that didn't need at least some amount of repair or maintenance.

She instinctively flinched as Ratchet took hold of her but otherwise gave no resistance, unsurprised at being treated like a prisoner, since that was what she was. She gave no resistance as she was picked up and laid on the berth.

For a long moment the medic grumbled and muttered to himself, various scans running over her frame again before he shook his head and began with setting up an energon drip.

"You've been on your own a while, I expect," his tone was surprisingly kind. "Designation's Ratchet."

She nodded cautiously. "Yeah. Not quite sure how long, slept through most of it, to save energy." After a pause, she added, "I'm Darkstalker. Not sure yet if being on this planet means I'm really lucky, or just that Primus hates me that much."

Though she was truly an optimist at spark, long centuries of experience had taught her that optimism only brought extra pain when things inevitably came crashing down.

She wanted to just curl up in a ball on the berth, but didn't particularly want to find out just what Ratchet would do to her with that wrench collection Jazz had mentioned. For all she knew, he could end up disassembling her part by part, leaving critical systems for last, leaving her conscious and feeling every minute of it.

"Well Darkstalker, I'd say you're lucky you crashed where you did," Ratchet told her conversationally as he turned off the sensor receptors in one leg and began to work, all but rebuilding it from the tip of her ped on up. "I doubt you're going to meet Jazz's special brand of conversation, given you aren't Intel, and the Cons are in no position to fix what you need fixed. You're going to be stuck on this berth for at least a decaorn, assuming I have all the parts I need. Whoever your last medic was didn't deserve the title, even if he didn't have any equipment."

"Doubt any of 'em I'd have met would have even cared enough to bother. Only reason I got patched up last time was 'cause the last cleaning drone had gotten smashed in a fit of anger and they didn't want to have to clean up after themselves. And I think the only reason he'd become the ship 'medic' was because he was the only one who knew one end of a welding torch from the other."

She reached one hand up to rub at her helm. "All this weird is making my processor ache..."

Ratchet huffed without breaking from his work. "If you think today is weird, you're going to crash before you're out of medbay. When was the last time you had a proper fueling, as in you had full reserve tanks?"

"Um...never?" she admitted nervously. Not only that, but what she'd had available to her had been about one step more nutritious for her than, say, dirt. "Sometimes I could get a little extra if the others didn't finish theirs..."

"That would explain why your self repair systems are all but non-functional," he grumbled. "Was your entire unit that ill-supplied, or just you?"

"We weren't exactly well supplied anyway, but I'd always get the short end of things." He didn't seem too bad so far. "I think maybe everything I was told about Autobots was a lie."

"Most likely," Ratchet didn't contest it, even without knowing exact details. "Whatever you told Jazz certainly put him in a _mood_. Probably a good thing you came in alone, really. He'd have torn them apart for treating a youngling like that. Just about everybody here would. There are too few of us already."

"Oh no, none of you have to do anything like that. Not over me." Not worth anyone putting themselves in danger.

"The medic snorted. "Good luck stopping it. These mechs do what they feel is right."

"Ratchet? What's going to happen to me?" she asked.

"For the next few orn, I'll be rebuilding you," he told her with a grunt as something twisted and burnt came out of her leg. "On that subject, do you want your adult software upgrades?"

"I guess I am old enough for it now, aren't I? Might as well, at least I shouldn't have all my programming scrambled in the process."

"All right. Then you'll go to Jazz, who will decide what level of threat you represent and the value of your information. Unless you want to ask for asylum or defect now, which means you'll talk to Prime, then Jazz, but he'll be limited in what he can do to you unless he can prove you weren't sincere. After that, it's mostly up to you and how you act. Though from what I've seen, even life in the brig would be better on you than how you've grown up."

It took a minute for the rest of Ratchet's words to sink in. "Wait ... you mean I don't have to be a Decepticon?"

The medic huffed. "No. No you don't have to be a Con. There are several defectors in our ranks. You'll be judged on your actions, not who commissioned you."

"And if I'm not good enough to be an Autobot either? If I really am just a failure at everything?" She wasn't sure she could continue existing without any social connection to her kind, like if she were exiled or something.

However, it could be simply that being chronically under-fueled and shoddily repaired had been the barriers to allowing her whatever talent she had to blossom.

"No such thing," Ratchet said with enough fire to make her cringe. He made the effort to reign in his emotions. "Even if you are as useless as you seem to think, you'll find a place here to earn your keep."

"Can I please stay? I don't mind work, any sort. I just want to be useful to somebody. Please?" She knew she shouldn't dare hope like this, but maybe this time would be different. Everything had already been turned upside down since the moment she met Jazz, maybe now it was okay to hope.

"Technically that's Prime's choice, but he hasn't turned anyone away yet," he told her with a bit of a smile and went back to his work. "Can you read?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, I like to read. Didn't have much access to anything, but I'd read anything I could get a hold of. I'd like to learn new things too. They kinda gave up after figuring out I couldn't hit the broad side of a battleship when they started teaching me to fight. Is Prime scary?"

She'd never had anybody be this nice to her, so her unintended Bluestreak impression was, in a sense, making up for lost time.

"Only if he's trying to kill you," Ratchet laughed in real humor. "Prowl's the scary one, but he's not _dangerous_ unless you attack his bonded or Prime. He just scowls. Of course, around here I'm considered the really scary one, but that's only because most of the mechs can't keep themselves from getting hurt doing stupid things."

"Mm...that makes some sense. Jazz said something about if I was difficult you'd introduce me to your wrench collection. But I don't want to be difficult. Be nice to not have to be scared anymore... Can't promise I won't ever do anything stupid that'll get me hurt, but I'll try my best to avoid it."

"That'll put you ahead of every mech and almost every human," Ratchet made a snort of amusement and approval.

"They actively look for stupid things to get into that'll get them hurt? That doesn't make much sense. Or is it they don't think about the consequences of the stupid things that seem like a good idea at the time?"

He smiled at her Bluestreak impression. It was cute when they were this young. He just hoped she'd grow out of it like he had. "Mostly the second, but occasionally the first while swearing that it wasn't a stupid idea."

The door slid open to reveal a white mech with red markings. "You wanted this, sir?"

Ratchet reached back with an empty hand and was given the datapad.

"Is this who Jazz brought in?" the new mech asked, peering around Ratchet's larger frame at the femme.

"Yes. She's planning to defect, but not before I'm done with her," Ratchet informed him evenly. "Darkstalker, this is another mech to be very good towards. First Aid is my SIC. He'll be handling some of your repairs, and you ever give him trouble, you have to deal with me in a bad mood."

"Hello Darkstalker," First Aid smiled at her and extended a hand while remaining out of Ratchet's way. "Welcome to Diego Garcia."

Darkstalker gave First Aid a shy smile, taking his hand to shake. "Nice to meet you." She liked how his smaller size meant he didn't seem to loom over her quite as much.

"You're definitely the most civilized Con I've met in medbay," First Aid grinned at her. "Youngest too, I think."

"Yes, she's the youngest by a significant margin," Ratchet told him, then looked at her. "He brought you reading material," he shoved the data pad at her. "Basic who's who, the best ways not to step on organics, the rues so Prowl doesn't growl at you too often, who not to trust outside of guarding your back in battle. Who's not available and why for after you get your adult upgrade. Some couples are open, but some view flirting with their lover as grounds for war. Any questions, do ask."

"I've always heard that organics were supposed to stay in some sort of 'Generator Facility'. Never been to one, though, just heard the adults talking about it...so why do you let them just run around? Do you just not have the right kind of building yet?" To Darkstalker, this seemed a perfectly innocent question, knowing nothing about the ugly truth behind the Decepticons' generator facilities, or that humans were even sentient.

She knew almost instantly _something_ was wrong with the sharp intakes and sudden stiffness in both medics and the utterly horrified expression on First Aid's face.

"We let them run free because they are _people_," Ratchet said firmly, his vocalizer straining to keep his explanation from flying off the handle. "Sentient just like we are. The generator facilities are prisons where they are constantly tortured to produce energy for us. Autobots do not have such facilities. We gain much more energy from causing them pleasure in a one to one relationship."

The understanding hit her like a ton of bricks, and in her shock, the datapad clattered to the floor as it slipped from her hand.

"Oh Primus. I had no idea, I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't know!" And apparently that was as much stress as her processor could take as she crashed hard.

The two medics exchanged a look and began to relax. Ratchet eventually allowed a relieved smile to cross his features. "That actually bodes _very_ well for her survival. Now get over to the other side and work on her leg while I reset her."

"Yes sir," First Aid nodded and did as he was told.


	2. Waking in a Strange World

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse (POV'verse)  
**Author**: gatekat and fallentaiyoko on LJ  
**Pairing**: Jolt/Sideswipe  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Codes**: Slash  
**Summary**: Darkstalker gets a few solid lessons on Autobot culture, and that some Autobots aren't as friendly as others.  
**Notes**: RP written in the Point of View fanverse explained http:/community .livejournal .com/ tf_matrix/738 .html and pretty much in story as well.  
Jazz is alive (you should be used to this by now) and bonded to Prowl.  
::text:: - Radio/comm talk

* * *

**Turning a Con 02: Waking in a Strange World**

* * *

As Darkstalker rebooted, her auto-diagnostics started popping up reports on her HUD. She briefly panicked at the message that there was no data coming from her legs at all, but then she remembered what had happened and where she was, and what had made her crash.

"I'm sorry, Ratchet, can you please forgive me? I didn't know." She gave a warbling cry, disturbed so badly because she could identify with them, even if her situation hadn't been the same as the tormented organics.

"Yes," the medic answered soothingly as he paused in his world briefly to look at her. "It's a well-kept secret from the 'Con rank and file. We know that. It's what you do after learning that matters. Just like what you do while here matters, not the color of your optics or the insignia you had no choice but to wear. Ready to keep reading?"

She nodded, accepting the datapad back. Reading through the information, most of it seemed pretty straightforward, though there was a few things that made her murmur to herself, "They had to make a rule about _that_? Guess it means somebody's done it before."

She didn't anticipate getting into much trouble, at least not intentionally. And here it seemed she wouldn't have the trouble of mechs being all 'I'm in a bad mood, I'm gonna use you as a punching bag.'

"I'm guessing you hit the section with a note of 'Twin Based Rules'," Ratchet chuckled. "Between Mudflap and Skids, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Jolt, Jazz, Tread Bolt and Hot Rod we have quite the prankster base around here. They're harmless though, even if Prowl refuses to admit it. Just young mechs being young mechs. Well, except for Jazz. But he's the exception to every rule in the known universe, including himself."

A message popped up in her HUD, and instead of trying to ignore it for as long as possible like usual, she decided to ask the medic. "Can I have an energon cube please? Any kind is fine. Jazz said the kind Hound shared with me was just a field ration, that you have better back here at the base, but even just the field ration kind is good."

She felt a powerful medical scan ping every one of her systems before Ratchet nodded and walked a few steps away. He returned with three cubes, setting two down on a small platform next to the berth and handed her the third.

A third that was notably larger than the field ration she'd had earlier and sparkled with purity.

"Try not to go too fast, but I want you to drink all three in the next two joor," he instructed firmly but kindly. "If you start to feel your processors go fuzzy, stop and tell me. You haven't had real energon in a long time. It might react like high grade."

Taking her first sip, Darkstalker momentarily wondered if she had in fact died after all, and this was the matrix. Taking heed to the caution not to drink too fast, she sipped on the cube. After all, downing the whole thing in one gulp then ending up purging everywhere wouldn't be pleasant for anybody involved, and it would make Ratchet annoyed at her.

Halfway through her second cube, she set it down. "Feeling a little fuzzy now," she told him, wrapping her arms around herself as though trying to give herself a hug.

Medical scans ran over her, the pointed, almost harsh kind of a deep systems check.

"If the fuzziness doesn't clear up in a breem and a half, tell me," he instructed and went back to working on her leg. "Do you have any skills, beyond a cleaning drone mimic?"

"I don't know. There might be things that I haven't tried that I might be good at. Definitely not any good at fighting though. Couldn't hit the broad side of a battleship."

After about a breem, she added, "I'm feeling better now. Is it all right if I rest for a while, though?"

"By all means rest," Ratchet nodded. "You're going to have a lot of down time and not much to do until I say you're fit to walk out of here."

* * *

When Darkstalker cycled out of deep recharge she still had hundreds of error messages scrolling across her HUD, but her legs were back on line and not one error from them.

She couldn't pick up the medics, though there was someone near the door.

Unused to having any part of her not reporting any errors, she ran another diagnostic on her legs, just to be sure. Well, Ratchet and First Aid had done their work well (as usual) and the diagnostic came back clean as well.

Taking the cube she hadn't finished earlier, she moved to stand, only to have the electric blue mech step forward.

"Don't move. Doc's orders," he told her firmly, though there didn't seem to be any anger or overt threat there.

She still immediately and settled back down. "Oh. Hi. I'm Darkstalker. What's your designation?"

"Jolt," he smiled a bit. "Seems you've made quite an impression already, having our SIC, CMO and resident noble ghost all out to protect you."

She rubbed a hand over her face shyly. "I suppose they'll do as they want, even if I think I don't deserve it." Taking a drink from the cube, she added, "Nice to meet you Jolt. You're a pretty shade of blue."

"Thank you," he smiled a little brighter. "Ratchet told me to warn you that your adult software upgrades are installed, but they might not be fully integrated yet. You might have some mood swings and desires that come out of nowhere for a while."

Finishing the half cube and starting on the third of the cubes Ratchet had brought earlier, she asked, "What kind of things are there to do around here? I'd like to try some new things, see if there's something I can be good at."

"Umm," he seemed startled by the question, and had to really think about it. "Most of us think it's dull as the Pit, but most of us didn't spend our lives up to this point imitating a cleaning drone. There's a lot of planet to explore, though I doubt you'd be cleared for that anytime soon," he admitted. "There are forty-seven mechs here, including you, from just about every field and division. Tactics, Science, Air Support, Medical, Scouts, Intercept, Defense, Intel, Engineers ... and of course Prime's here. There's not much you couldn't find a teacher for if you wanted."

"Well, then, to narrow it down, what do _you_ do? When you're not on guard duty, that is..." Optics shining with curiosity, she sat up on the berth and pulled her knees up towards her chest.

He chuckled lightly. "I'm still in the 'facing like petrorabbits phase of things with Sides when I'm not on duty. There's almost always a party going on in the rec room, play pranks, put in a lot of combat and some medical training."

"I think I might try medical training. Don't know if I'd be any good at it, but it can't hurt to try, right? And what are parties like? I've never been to one."

"We can always use another medic," Jolt nodded in agreement. "Parties are music, dancing, high-grade and just relaxing, whether you're making a fool of yourself overcharged or watching someone else do it," he grinned manically. "They're a blast. But no high-grade for you until Ratchet clears you. Your systems are seriously fragged. I've seen mechs come off a solo flight from Cybertron in better shape."

"As far as I understand it, no _nothing_ until Ratchet clears me, right?" she said with a little grin and received one in return. "I didn't really mean to get so fragged up...didn't help that the so-called 'medic' we had was just the one mech who knew one end of a welding torch from the other."

Jolt winced in sympathy. "Yeah, there's a reason every Autobot takes at least basic first aid and most of us have some field medic training, either from an actual medic or experience keeping ourselves and teammates alive. Not enough to be medics in any but the most dire situations, but enough to keep everybody walking and rolling at least. So how'd you get your designation?"

"Had a rather unfortunate tendency to sneak up on the adults when I was having trouble staying in recharge. They didn't exactly appreciate it, though it kinda stuck as a designation because it at least sounded like a halfway decent name for a 'Con."

He didn't hide the grin at the story. "You'd have been given a similar one here with that hobby," he snickered. "Though you'll be free to choose a new one if you want. Only a handful of bots know you're here, and fewer know your designation."

"I dunno...I've gotten kind of attached to it, if you understand what I mean. Really should have learned ages ago to _not_ go seeking comfort from adults, but my logic circuits are never at their best when I first wake up from a bad memory purge."

She craved physical contact, even if just platonic, but had no clue how to even form such a request, trouble compounded by the first of the mentioned mood swings, a sadness that hit her so strongly it made her spark ache.

"Yeah, those suck," he murmured, torn between his duty to remain on guard and the core coding that called to comfort a youngling ... or anyone that needed comforting. "We've got some experience in helping folks through those. War's left most of us with at least the occasional one." ::Sides, can you swing by the medbay holding room? Please?:: He sent a secure transmission to his lover, knowing full well that Ratchet and First Aid shouldn't be woken up for this.

::Sure, Lightning Bug,:: his cheeky reply came easily. ::What's up?::

::The kid needs a hug and I can't do that and guard her at the same time.::

::You are such a softie,:: Sideswipe grumbled. ::On my way.::

It was actually kind of reassuring to know that she wasn't the only one who had bad memory purges, that it wasn't simply a sign of weakness like she'd always believed.

As a large silver mech she hadn't met before entered the room, she gave him a soft, simple, "Hi," though without her usual enthusiasm.

Later it would sink in that he was the first one that really looked like he _wanted_ to skewer her with those deadly blades that went from wrist nearly to his wheeled feet. That this was the first pure warrior she'd met among the Autobots, but all those thoughts took a back seat to the fact that Jolt was walking to her berth.

He stopped within reach and opened his arms to her.

For a few moments, a myriad of emotions flickered across her face. Then Jolt had an armful of femme as Darkstalker practically launched herself into his embrace with a warble.

She clung onto the blue mech like a lifeline, completely ignoring Sideswipe glaring death at her as she was wrapped in Jolt's arms. He sat down on the berth, clicking and cooing to her soothingly as he rocked her like a frightened sparkling.

Eventually as she calmed down, she loosened her grip on Jolt, but still nuzzling against him. Though she knew it would eventually have to end, she wanted to hold onto this as long as she could, try to burn the experience into her memory.

"Thank you," she said meekly to the blue mech, finally starting to actually notice Sideswipe and his death glares and kind of trying to hide behind Jolt.

"You're welcome," he brushed his lip components against the top of her helm in an affectionate gesture common between creator and created, even if he was too young, and far too nice, to be hers. "Can you finish your energon and recharge now? And don't worry about him," he gave a cheeky grin to the silver warrior. "He's only dangerous if you threaten somebot."

She gave a soft purring sound. "Yeah, I think I'll be okay now. And any threat I might make at anybot would be all bluff and no substance...well, maybe unless it was a threat to prank them, if I had a good idea how to do it, and they were being mean to me."

She caught a sound from Sideswipe that she translated as not believing her statement, but most of her attention was on Jolt as he let her go and stood to walk back to the door. As she picked up the energon cube she watched them, the way they touched and looked at each other. The silent communication she was sure was going on.

Partners? Lovers? Neither seemed old enough to have a comrade they knew so well.

The silver one glared at her one last time before rolling away on wheeled pedes.

She finished her cube as she watched the two of them. She thought it was beautiful the way the pair were together, hoping that maybe someday she might find someone to be together with like that.

As Jolt settled back in to guard duty, she curled up on the berth on her side and went into recharge.


	3. Facing the Music

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse/World of Darkness  
**Pairing**: Jazz/Prowl, Sunstreaker/Sideswipe, Ratchet/Ironhide, Mirage/Hound  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Codes**: Slash  
**Author**: Gatekat and fallentaiyoko on LJ  
**Summary**: Darkstalker, now almost fully repaired, facing Prime and a few of the command officers.  
**Notes:** Written in the Point of View fanverse (community .livejournal .com/tf_matrix)  
My Jazz is heavily, heavily influenced by 'Take Hold of My Spinning World', 'Where You and I Collide' by Hearts of Eternity

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Turning a Con 3: Facing the Music

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As far as Darkstalker could tell, her upgrades seemed to have finally settled in, as well as the last of Ratchet's repairs. Although she was still quite nervous, the adult upgrades apparently provided help in simply coping with her emotions. Still, sooner or later she would have to face Prime and his officers to see if she would be allowed to stay, and hopefully find a skill she could do that could help her earn her energon.

Jolt had been consistently kind and patient with her, while Sideswipe glared full-on swords at her whenever he'd been assigned to guard duty here. Jazz liked to talk, but preferred to listen to her. He'd sing too, stuff from Cybertron, from Earth and from dozens of other worlds he'd visited. Mirage tended to be silent and aloof, while Hound, who she was sure was Mirage's lover, was nearly as outgoing as Jazz, but focused on the lesser biological races of the world. Streetwise and Groove were both fun, gestalt brothers of the other senior medic, First Aid she'd found out.

It left her to wonder if Sideswipe's scowl directed at everyone except Jolt, or just here. Would other mechs here glare at her like that too?

In a sense, she wanted to go ahead and get the upcoming meeting over with, if only so she could get her mind off of it.

She looked towards the door to see it was Jolt guarding her, and he smiled at her when she looked at him.

"Feeling better?" he asked with that smile that seemed fixed in place.

She gave him a shy smile in return. "Yeah. Think the upgrades helpede settle some things out too. By the way, does Sideswipe glare at everyone but you like that, or is it just at me?"

"He glares at pretty much everybody," Jolt grinned cheekily at her. "You rate that extra-special glare because I actually touched you. He's just a bit possessive still."

"Oh," she nodded pulled out her 'doodling' datapad, starting a blank page to doodle random abstract shapes and lines. Between such doodles and snippets of musical notation, it was to the point that she would soon have to upload the data to more permanent storage or start deleting things to make room.

"And how have you been?" she asked as well.

"Good," he stretched and relaxed. "It's kinda nice having guard duty instead of patrols for a while, and you make sure I get _lots_ of undivided Sideswipe attention when I do get off duty. Your repairs and upgrades have been useful to watch too. Think you're ready to face Prime and the command staff?"

She gave a noncommittal sound, replying, "Yeah. I mean, I'm nervous and all, but _that's_ not something that waiting will make any better. If anything, waiting longer'll make it worse, since then I'll have more time to come up with worst-case scenarios. Sideswipe's a lucky mech. Maybe someday I'll get to know somebody and we'll care for each other like you two do."

"You're in the right place for it," Jolt's smile turned a bit more serious. "Autobots do tend to pair up, and you're young. You've got a lot of time to find somebody. If old by the rules Prowl can find a mech to bond with, there's hope for everybody." He paused briefly as a message came in. "Everyone who needs to be at the hearing is available, so I'm to bring you there."

Darkstalker subspaced her datapad and got up from the berth. "All right. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. And if protocol says you still have to treat me as a Decepticon prisoner right now because things haven't been made official yet, it's all right."

She held out her arms, expecting to be cuffed for the trip to the hearing, since she hadn't yet taken any oaths. She'd also heard that the security officer was a bit prone to freaking out, and she doubted being completely unrestrained would sit well with him.

"Nah," he shook his head with an unrepentant grin firmly in place. "You won over Jazz. Not even Red'll challenge that. Well, not often at any rate," he motioned her to follow him. "Besides, if you try something, you won't make it two steps before somebody nails you. Between Sunny, Sides, Hide and Raj, I doubt you'd even see who took you out."

"Oh, I wouldn't doubt that," she said as she followed him through the medbay, one better equipped than she could have even dream up. "I mean, I wouldn't be completely surprised if part of the reason I never could learn to fight was my instructors were doing it wrong, but either way, I couldn't even hit the broad side of a battleship with a blaster."

Though trying to make sure she kept up with him, she couldn't help but look around at everything and everyone she saw along the way. Didn't want to die because they misinterpreted her sightseeing as trying to wander off, after all.

"I'm sure Hide and Jazz will give it a try anyway, for just that reason," Jolt smiled at her and intentionally slowed when they walked outside into the bright tropical sun, sweltering humid heat and cool sea breezes. "From those doodles, you might find an ally in Sunny of all mechs, and I know Jazz has been driving everyone nuts humming that melody you showed him last time he was watching you, which means you can expect him and Blaster to be demanding some of your time too."

Darkstalker didn't really know how to handle that sort of praise, and had she been human, would have turned a bright red. "I ... didn't think it was anything all that much or anything. Didn't expect it to matter to anybody."

She kind of wanted to go hide under a rock or something for a few days, but Prime and the command staff were waiting on her, and would probably at least be mildly annoyed if she couldn't come over something as silly as Jazz actually liking her music.

"Not used to anybody paying attention, are you?" Jolt gave her a sympathetic glance as they walked to one of the larger buildings on the strange base. The door opened when he approached, and he walked into the small entry room without hesitation.

Darkstalker shook her head. "No. Usually attention meant bad things were about to happen to me."

The first thing that struck her was the height of the place. Easily five times as tall as she was, even the doors and hallways she was led through were huge; not just tall but wide.

As they came into the building, she looked around, awestruck and feeling quite tiny. Even though she knew there were Cybertronians much larger than her, she was pretty sure there weren't any _this_ large.

"We built with the assumption that Silverbolt, Skyfire, Grimlock and Sky Lynx would eventually come," he said without being prompted as he led her down one hallway with many doors labeled with names, ranks and positions she knew from her orientation file. "A bit of advice," he said quietly, slowing his pace as they neared their destination. "Tell the truth, try not to cower too much, and when Jazz asks you to lower your firewalls, do it. You do not want to be on the receiving end of his virus collection," he shuddered slightly in memories he'd rather not have. "Just watching the results was bad enough."

"I'll do my best, but the whole not cowering thing's gonna be a challenge," she replied. "The rest I was already planning on doing anyway."

"That's good," he nodded and paused outside one of the doors, a conference room.

"I'm nervous, Jolt ... do you think everything will be okay?"

"As long as you are what you seem, yes," he gave her a smile before palming the door control and stepped inside. "Prime," he bowed slightly to the ultimate **Author**ity of the Autobots. "Darkstalker, as you requested."

"Thank you, Jolt," Prime responded from his position at the center of the long, slightly crescent shapede table. Flanking him, all facing her, were his top officers; Jazz, Prowl and Red Alert on his right, Ironhide, Ratchet and Silverbolt on his left.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were there too, flanking the door she had to walk through, their blades out and warning glares fully in place, almost begging her to screw up so they could tear into her.

Oh. Primus. Yeah, the 'not cowering' thing was gonna be _real_ hard, she realized as she followed Jolt into the conference room. Though she wasn't quite sure what proper protocol was in showing respect to the Prime, she had to do _something_ since he was still technically a ruler of Cybertron, and thus, herself. Taking a cue from Jolt, she simply bowed to Prime as well, just slightly deeper and slightly longer than he had held his.

Her panic rose just a bit when Jolt left and the door closed, leaving her in the center of a room full of the most powerful **Author**ities among the Autobots, and two of their fiercest warriors behind her.

"Darkstalker," Prime spoke when she straitened a bit, his powerful voice commanding everything within audio range. "I understand that you wish to be granted asylum. Is that still true?"

She tried to mitigate her panic by setting a metronome internally and counting the beats. It ... sort of helped, at least keeping her from going into a full panic attack.

"Yes sir, I do," she replied.

"What do you offer, in exchange for our protection and support?" his deep blue optics seemed to bore right threw her, and even her apparent benefactor in Jazz didn't seem any more friendly.

She seemed to wilt slightly at that question, taking a moment to organize her thoughts and try to find a way to make herself sound worthy of being given a chance, at least.

"I have not had the opportunity to learn valuable skills before, but what I can offer is a desire to learn, and work hard. I understand nothing in life is free, and I want to earn my keep somehow. If I could, I'd like to be allowed to study to become a medic."

If the newly appraising look Ratchet was giving her was any indication, that might have been a good choice.

"What of your knowledge of the Decepticons?" Prime asked in that deep, rumbling command voice that made you instantly understand why he was in charge.

_Not scary unless he's trying to kill you, my aft,_ she thought to herself, though perhaps Prime wasn't so much scary as just sheer **intimidating**.

"I was on the _Cataclysm_, a small ship with ten mechs aboard." She named the mechs, and their positions on the ship, none of whom had been of any particular importance among the Decepticons. "I acknowledge that there may be occasions in my memories that I would not understand to contain relevant information, and if you wish to review them for that reason, I give my full consent."

"Jazz and Ratchet will see they are copied and reviewed," Prime inclined his head slightly to the two officers, who nodded their agreements. "Ratchet will also install a tracking beacon, as well as show you how to ping our locations and use the private comm system should you need someone. Under his request, and over the objections of Ironhide, you will be placed in my First Lieutenant's custody until further notice. That means you will not leave the quarters assigned to you without the company of a senior officer or pre-approved escort. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir, I understand," she replied, bowing to him again. She knew this was necessary, until she had enough opportunity to prove her trustworthiness, Prime had to make sure first to protect the mechs he knew. Besides, being confined to quarters unless with an approved escort didn't preclude guests coming to visit if they wished.

She stood and waited, not sure if there was anything else, as well as waiting for someone to escort her so as to not give Sunstreaker and Sideswipe a reason to attack. Jazz was the one who stepped forward for the job.

"Come on," he motioned her to follow, his manner serious but not in a way that set off her 'I'm about to get slagged' warnings. "My quarters or yours?" he asked as they passed the twins.

She followed him, and shrugged. "Doesn't really matter one way or the other to me. I wouldn't mind seeing what your quarters look like, though." It was merely curiosity, though, to see his quarters, and how, or if, it was personalized.

He nodded and led her back outside and towards another hanger-looking building that probably was modern Cybertronian construction inside. "They're next to each other, at least until you've got security clearance of your own. Prowl was going to have you bunk in our spare room until I reminded him how much of his highly classified work he brings home at night," the small silver mech snickered.

"Take it he'd rather stick me in a room of my own rather than stop bringing work home instead?" she asked good-naturedly. "I don't really mind too much, though ... I'm already imposing on you enough as is, let alone taking from your privacy with Prowl."

"Prowl, stop bring work home?" Jazz howled in laughter as they entered another building. "The Unmaker would take him first. Public wash racks are there," he motioned both right and left to the first rooms inside the building. "Since you're in officer quarters, you'll have a private one. I'd recommend using the public ones though. It'll get everybody used to seeing you around."

She noted the location of the public wash racks for future reference, but said to Jazz, "Perhaps, but since I'm not to leave my quarters without an officer or approved escort, according to Prime, I wouldn't want to bother someone just for something as trivial as going to the wash racks, especially since it's something I can take care of on my own."

"Somehow I doubt you'll have much trouble getting an escort," he chuckled softly as he led her deep into the building.

She was mildly baffled as to why he'd say that ... certainly mechs would have better/more important things to do than escort her to the washracks?

The doors they passed were all unmarked, but the layout simple enough to keep track of. "That one," he pointed to the next door down as he palmed the controls for the one they were in front of. "Will be your quarters for now. I finished modifying it yesterday.

Since Jazz was noticeably shorter than even she was, she had a good view of the entrance room, and that it was one of at least four in the simple, still sparsely decorated quarters. A few items, crystals and decorative sculpture mostly, were here and there, and a _lot_ of book and music files on shelves and scattered everywhere.

"Come on," he reminded to her follow as he walked in and headed directly to the door on the far right.

She had been distracted by one of the sculptures, but Jazz's reminder jerked her from her reverie and she followed him into the berthroom, uncertain of what she was to do now.

"Sit," he pointed to the spot next to him on the large berth as he sat down. "Drop your firewalls," he instructed as he released a cable from his wrist.

Unless part of Ratchet's work had included additional firewalls, she didn't have much to drop. Following his instructions, she sat on the berth, dropping her firewalls for him. One thing he would find sifting through her memories, was that she had actually _downplayed_ the abuse she'd suffered, in an attempt to keep Jazz and the other Autobots she'd at least kind of befriended from being more worried or upset than they already were.

When he plugged in, his entrance wasn't gentle. He was there on a mission, and she got her first real sense of why the playful, friendly Autobot had risen through the ranks and why he was doing this and not someone in security.

Jazz ... Spymaster ... Saboteur ... Assassin. Everything an Autobot _wasn't_ supposed to be, and unrepentantly _proud_ of that fact.

She had nearly thrown her firewalls back up in reflex, but managed to catch herself before she did, forcing them to stay down.

There was a simple acceptance of who he was. After all, this was a war, and surely his work had saved the lives of some of his fellow Autobots. She didn't believe she could do that sort of work, but she respected him and what he did.

~Not as many as I killed in Megatron's employ, but getting there,~ he told her as he shuffled through her processors with lightning speed, leaving no trace of his passing in his wake, beyond her sure knowledge that he'd been there. ~No, not even Ratchet can find my trail when I'm not out to leave one.~

She was taken by surprise at finding out that _Jazz_, one of Prime's trusted officers, had once been a 'Con. There was a flicker of curiosity, wanting to ask him about what it was like for him, why he came to the Autobots, but a restraint of 'don't want to pry.'

~I hope you find something you can use.~ she said instead, only belatedly realizing that this deep in her processors her every thought was wide open for him and he was definitely listening.

~I wasn't a 'Con, though Hide would argue that,~ he actually chuckled. ~I never gave my allegiance to him. He just paid the best and had the most interesting jobs at the time. I loved it. He rewarded me very well to do what I did best, taking mechs for a spin in my world and bringing them back in broken little pieces with a datafile of whatever I was paid to get.

~It ended when he brought me this one Autobot. I couldn't break him. I couldn't even _phase_ him. He made my lovely spinning world slow to a stop. After ninety seven orns, Megatron ordered him destroyed, claimed that it wasn't worth the effort anymore,~ Jazz shrugged, but the tenor of his mind was a combination of fury and entitlement that refused to be denied it's prize. ~I wasn't going to give up the one thing that had ever bested me, even temporarily. Megatron wasn't going to take anything from me. So I broke him out, returned him to his kind and ... I staid. Studied him as he studied me. I won, eventually. Only instead of Megatron benefiting from my patience and skill, Prime did.~

When she realized he could read her every thought, she felt embarrassed, and a sense of should-have-known-better.

~Prowl?~ she guessed as to who the mech of the story was. It seemed like a likely conclusion, given what she'd heard and read about him. ~And what did you consider 'winning'?~

~Yes,~ Jazz all but purred as he continued to slide through her mind with ease. ~He surrendered. He's mine.~ Though possessive, there was undeniable affection, fierce protectiveness and absolute respect for his bonded there too. ~Though to hear him tell it, I'm the one that surrendered,~ he added with real amusement at the thought and the description of him. ~Since I'm not just an Autobot, but an architect of much of the resent war.~

It seemed like that was a sort of reasonable comparison, since certainly Jazz's change to using his talents to help the Autobots had been quite a change in how the war was going.

She felt a brief glimmer of hope that one day she could find someone for her, like Jazz had Prowl, and Jolt had Sideswipe, and such ... but she doubted it would happen. She would be content, if not entirely _happy_ if she could just find a place to belong and be useful here.

~You are entirely too young to be that jaded,~ Jazz chided her gently. ~I knew The Thirteen, and it wasn't until half way through this war that I found him. Back then, it was common belief that Primus gave each spark a mate, and they would continue to be reborn until they found each other. By Guardian Prime, I thought that was just another bit of religious nonsense.~

She had a sense that he felt he had been wrong, and was grateful for it, even if he'd never even _think_ the words.

~Would be something I wouldn't mind getting proven wrong on ... but if I plan for the worst, anything else is a pleasant surprise.~

She shifted, laying to curl on her side on the berth, careful not to accidentally dislodge the cable connected to her. A gentle melody seemed to just insert itself into her mind, that didn't seem to come from Jazz either. Wherever it came from, whether just inspiration or from Primus himself, though, it helpede soothe her.

She felt him pick up on it and carry it, weaving an impossibly long lifetime of experience into crafting the little tune into something that lulled her into recharge, all the while showing her what he was doing with it. She purred softly, a sense of seeking permission to fall into recharge, as she fought off recharge until she either had permission or got into her own room. As well, there was an underlying childlike desire to cuddle with somebody.

Jazz caressed her mind and silently gave the permission as he pulled her close and indulged in the desire to snuggle. As he continued to work through her recharging processors and memory banks, the physical damage those containing her earlier vorns forced him to turn his attention to her programming and any hidden protocols or code she might have.

Thankfully, for the same reason she'd not had her adult upgrades until now, she didn't have any sort of hidden malicious protocols or code. She snuggled against him as she fell into a relaxed recharge, feeling _safe_ for the first time in vorns.


	4. Adult Activities

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse/World of Darkness  
**Pairing**: Jazz/Darkstalker  
**Rating**: NC-17 for mech/femme  
**Codes**: Het  
**Author**: Gatekat and fallentaiyoko on LJ  
**Summary**: When Darkstalker wakes up, she finds out that she's still on Jazz and Prowl's berth, and Jazz is rather ... amorous.

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Turning a Con 4: Adult Activities

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Darkstalker woke slowly, still feeling Jazz in her head, but he wasn't probing anymore. His presence was distant, curious ... keep in careful check. Even as recharge-fuzzy processors puzzled over that, she felt his hands brush across her plating; up her leg, along her side, across her abdominal armor.

"Do you want to try what you were dreaming of?" his voice was lower than before, but still held no malice.

"Yes ... please? If it's not going to make trouble for you with Prowl ... " she replied. Those touches felt nice, and though she'd gotten the basics of interfacing through her programming upgrades, she had no practical experience yet and there was some slight apprehension of the 'what if I'm not good enough?' variety.

"I asked him earlier, when you started dreaming," he murmured against her audial, his hands becoming bolder as slender fingers dipped into seams between armor plates to tease the tactile sensors there, then the wires and tubes below. "We aren't an open relationship, but we aren't exclusive either. My duties make such a commitment impractical at best."

She let out a small cry of surprised pleasure at those teasing touches, having never had anything in her life to compare, and reached tentatively to try to return some of what she felt to him with her own touches. His plating was warmer than she remembered, and he murmured appreciatively at her efforts.

"Would you prefer to explore me without distraction?" he offered as his voice took on a richer vibration that set her sensor net on fire with what she was beginning to recognize as arousal.

"Mm ... but why would I want to stop such a pleasant distraction?" she asked with a hint of playfulness, her touches getting just a bit bolder.

"Some do," he chuckled softly, ghosting his hands across her frame with a light magnetic pulse. "Have you played with yourself yet?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed arching into those touches. "No, I haven't."

"We're going to have some fun then," he purred into her audial. "I'm going to make sure you know four of the five ways to overload first hand before you leave this berth," his voice dropped to a sexy, nearly sub-vocal rumble that sent shivers down her entire frame that he traced with magnetic pulses and slender fingers.

She was in the middle of asking, "Only four?" but the pleasure interrupted her processing. Her fingers gripped at him, trying to pull herself closer to the source of such amazing sensations, and it seemed her sensors had turned themselves up to 'high' without her even realizing it.

"Touch only, what I'm doing to you now," he purred deeply and continued to move his hands and the magnetic field along her body. "Direct input, by valve and by spike," he told her as his fingers briefly ghosted between her legs. "Spark-sharing I won't teach you."

With only a few more of Jazz's skilled touches, she overloaded for her first time, frame shuddering from the intensity of it and voice giving out a staticy cry.

Soft murmurs of assurance in her audial and strong arms held her as she the charge gradually dissipated and she came down, her frame still trembling from the after shocks. "You like?" Jazz purred when she had regained some level of control back.

Darkstalker nodded, still somewhat overwhelmed. "That was ... don't think I know the words to describe. Completely unlike anything I've ever felt before."

Lips kissed her neck and smiled. "I would hope so, honestly," he murmured, still caressing her gently, though without the magnetic pulses. "Any preference on what you want to try next?"

She purred, still in a blissful haze. "If the rest are at least as good as that, doesn't matter to me which we do next," she replied, fingers idly tracing swirls against his armor.

He chuckled softly and slipped his fingers between her legs, drawing erotic glyphs with the tip of his claw. "Open up for me," he purred with a kiss to her audio receptor.

It took her a minute to figure out the commands needed to open that cover, but she managed to do it herself. "Like this, right?" She was still a bit nervous, but the way Jazz was encouraging her and such was helping to give her a little bit of confidence in herself.

"Yes," he rumbled with open arousal as he slid his own panel open. "Spike housing," he traced his claw around the upper of the two sensor-dense zones. With his other hand he guided one of hers to his fully pressurized spike and encouraged her to touch and explore.

She gently touched his spike, uncertain of how delicate (or not) it was, and not wanting to accidentally hurt him. Wanting to reciprocate the pleasure, she stroked along its length and watched his reaction, trying to find the ways of touching it that he liked best.

His vents hitched at her first touch, faint tremors lanced down his frame at her strokes.

"Harder," moaned deeply and used his fingers to guide hers a little more. "Release yours," he murmured, the fingers of his other hand circling her spike housing.

She continued her explorations with a firmer touch, his moan sending a shiver of pleasure through her. Just _giving_ pleasure, not necessarily having it reciprocated, was already starting to build a charge in her again.

Apparently her upgrades included a new subroutine that helpfully supplied the needed code to release and pressurize her spike. It felt unusual, not _bad_, just new and strange.

Then his fingers glided along its length. The pleasure signals across her entire system went crazy. When he closed his hand around it and stroked, like he'd showed her to do on himself, her hips bucked up of their own accord.

Oh _Primus_ that felt good, and she moaned and stroked Jazz's spike more, speeding up her rhythm, his touches spurring her to a greater determination to repay him for all the pleasure he'd given her so far.

"Oh, Jazz ... feels so good."

"Good," he murmured, gently removing her hand from his spike and guiding it lower, showing her by touch where his valve was, guiding one of her fingers to trace the rim, then slipped inside him briefly. "Whether it's your valve or your lover, if you don't want it to hurt the valve, make sure the one receiving is aroused enough to have lubricant all the way to the rim."

With a kiss to her neck, he let her spike go. With the same gentleness he pulled her over, rolling to his back and bringing her to rest on top of him, his legs spread and rubbing against her sensuously. "Mine is ready, and I want to feel you inside me."

She pushed herself into the slick valve, shivering at the new and pleasant feelings that came with it. Almost on instinct, she started thrusting into him slowly, moaning with the sensation as the charge continued to build in her systems. She looked to Jazz, wanting to make sure it was something he was enjoying too.

He smiled up at her and brought her head down for a long, lingering but ultimately chaste kiss. His body tightened around her spike, rhythmically squeezing and relaxing as he rocked his hips into her thrusts.

"Good instincts," he purred, stroking his hands along her body, casually and gently guiding it into motions that would feel just a bit better for them.

Thrusting harder and faster into his valve, she started exploring the rest of his body with her hands once more. Despite the physical pleasure, he was paying more attention to her thoughts and especially the deeply ingrained submission there.

Had the Decepticons been more manipulative rather than downright cruel, it would have been possible for them to eventually convince her to suicide-bomb an Autobot installation, with promises of joining the Matrix with a blaze of honor and glory. Perhaps it was all for the better of her and the Autobots that things were the way they were.

Jazz moaned appreciatively at her efforts, rocking his hips and rhythmically tightening his valve. He caught her face and pulled her in for a long, glossa-dueling kiss that only broke when the first shuddering moans of an impending overload escapede her.

"Relax and let it happen," he told her softly, stroking his hands down her sides but keeping the magnetic pulses in check to avoid completely overwhelming her.

It didn't take long after that for her to overload, transfluid spurting into Jazz's valve. So overwhelmed by it all, it took her a minute to compose herself enough to slide her depressurizing spike from him and collapse onto the berth next to him, trembling in the aftershocks as she snuggled next to him.

Jazz smiled and held her, caressing her in long, gentle strokes intended to calm and soothe rather than arouse.

"You doing okay?" he asked softly.

When Darkstalker found her voice again, she replied, "I ... don't know?" All of her emotions were going haywire and it was scaring her. A gentle, well-controlled presence was quickly in her mind, not saying anything, simply soothing her, providing a safe place in her mind to get a grip on herself.

~It's okay, Darkstalker,~ Jazz crooned directly to her mind. ~Don't be afraid of your emotions. They can't hurt you unless you let them take control.~

She held onto that presence, letting it be an anchor as she sifted through the maelstrom of emotions, until she could calm down more.

~How do I keep them from taking control?~ She couldn't think of any other solution than try to block them completely, but maybe Jazz knew of a better way ...

~Experience,~ he told her gently but firmly. ~You aren't a pre-programmed. It's extremely unhealthy for you to try and suppress them like that. Learning to use your emotions is part of growing up. Part of the stage of life you're in now.~

She felt like she needed to take some time to process through everything. Although she _liked_ being cuddled up with Jazz and it was comforting, she felt that she _should_ go do this on her own, that she'd wasted enough of the officer's valuable time.

~I'll let you know if you're taking up too much time,~ he responded to her thought and snuggled a little closer. ~Besides, I promised you'd experience four types of overload before you left this berth, and I keep my promises.~


End file.
